I climb from my branch
And settle on your crease
Folded neatly like a razor-
blade
In a grass of tongues that lick
The soles of my shoes, I walk
Through dew bare-
legged
Crunching glass in my wake.
Inspiring and connecting poets
I climb from my branch
And settle on your crease
Folded neatly like a razor-
blade
In a grass of tongues that lick
The soles of my shoes, I walk
Through dew bare-
legged
Crunching glass in my wake.
wow!
Leave a Reply to s112933@ltisdschools.net Cancel reply